


panic attack

by Anonymous



Series: bad things happen bingo [2]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Grounding Technique, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pre-Slash, Symptoms of a panic attack, licorice - Freeform, vague realization of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22828342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: bad things happen bingosquare O4 - panic attack
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel
Series: bad things happen bingo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633324
Comments: 10
Kudos: 70
Collections: Anonymous





	panic attack

JT guessed he was the first person to see what was happening. If it had been Gil or Dani, they’d have run to Malcolm first for sure. But a quick scan of the room told him that Gil was nowhere in the immediate vicinity - probably outside talking to the local precinct’s beat cops or the victim’s family or something. Dani was talking quietly with Edrissa over by the body, crouched low and head bent. He swore softly and jogged over to where Malcolm was standing by the door, his breathing rabbit-quick. There was a thin sheen of sweat beaded across his forehead, despite it being so cold in the room. Both hands were shaking, not just the one. 

He lifted his hand and gripped the back of Malcolm’s neck, ignoring the immediate full-body shudder. He held onto Malcolm’s shoulder with his other hand and knelt, hauling Malcolm to the floor with him. It took work, and he was surprised by it. For a skinny guy, Malcolm was strong. After a few minutes, he had Malcolm’s ass on the ground, his back pressed against the wall, and both knees raised, so he could shove Malcolm’s head between them.

“Now breathe,” he said, low and quiet, but commanding. He wasn’t taking no for an option. “Nice and slow. With me.” He took a deep, exaggerated breath, and rubbed a big circle on Malcolm’s back. And Malcolm tried, but he choked on it, and it fizzled into sputtering gasps halfway through. Bright blue eyes flashed up at him, full of terror - aware, but afraid - and JT was a little relieved. It was better than the dead look he’d been rocking when JT had first come over to him. 

“We got this,” JT said, confident, calm. Reassuring. 

He’d done this a thousand times before, for guys out in the shit. For other cops. For guys in his PT group. For guys at group. He’d talked himself through panic attacks. He  _ still _ carried around black licorice because it was the foulest tasting thing he’d ever put in his mouth, and it was almost always guaranteed to stop a panic attack in its tracks. 

“You like licorice?” JT asked. Malcolm blinked at him. Blinked again. “Come on, answer the question. Do you like licorice? Black licorice?” Malcolm shook his head. JT grinned. “Good. You’re gonna eat some.” He dug into his pocket and found one of the three pieces he kept at all times. He had more in his car, more in his desk at the precinct, more at home. He took his time unwrapping it, giving Malcolm a few more seconds to try and get his breathing under control now that he was semi-aware of what was happening to him. He hadn’t managed it by the time JT held out the candy, but he wasn’t on the verge of hyperventilating again. 

“Come on,” JT insisted, grabbing one of Malcolm’s hands and putting the candy in his palm. Malcolm stared, uncomprehending, for a long moment, then he slowly lifted it to his mouth with his trembling hand. “There you go.” 

It took a moment for the taste of the candy to sink in, to really get to Malcolm - maybe three or so seconds - but when it did, Malcolm made a face. His color went from pale and clammy to flushed and pink. He spit the candy back into his palm and stuck out his tongue, gagging a little against the taste. JT chuckled. 

“I know, I know,” JT said, “it’s awful. But you’re not panicking anymore, are you?” He grinned, and Malcolm offered him a tenuous, shaky smile in return. “Try to breathe, okay? You’re still not where you need to be.” 

Malcolm obediently took a deeper breath, and he was far steadier this time around. JT smiled for him, proud and bright. “Thanks,” Malcolm whispered. He grimaced at the spit-wet candy in his hand. “Not too sure what I’m supposed to do with this now, though.”

“I’ll find something you can put it in,” JT assured him. “Come on, more deep breaths. Show me.” Malcolm immediately and obediently drew in a deep breath over a count of five and exhaled over the same five-count. “Great job.” JT clapped Malcolm heavily on the shoulder, then climbed to his feet before offering Malcolm a hand to help him up. He was a little surprised Malcolm took it at all, since Malcolm seemed the type to need to prove he could do everything on his own. 

“Thanks, again,” Malcolm murmured. “I, ah. I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t,” JT said seriously. “Not for this. Never for this.” He settled one heavy hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “Something like this happens again? You come find me, if I’m close, or you call me if I’m not. I got pretty good at talkin’ people down these days.”

Malcolm immediately looked away, looked guilty. “I’m - thanks, but I’m -” 

“Say, ‘Yes, JT, I’ll do that,’ and then, you know, actually do it,” JT gave Malcolm a smaller smile and ducked to catch his eyes. “It’s not something you owe, it’s not something you feel ashamed about. It’s just something that is, something I can help with. Got it?” Malcolm nodded, finally meeting JT’s eyes. “Good. Go get some water or somethin’.” 

“Sure,” Malcolm said with a weak smile. 

JT watched him sneak out of the room - badly - and he turned to find Edrissa staring at the floor and Dani watching them with narrowed eyes. Once Malcolm was well and gone, she asked, “You all good?”

“We’re good,” JT said with a short nod. Dani nodded in return, trusting that. 

JT returned his attention back to the body, to the case, refocusing. He doubted Malcolm would come to him when he needed the help, but he’d made the effort, made the offer, and he’d be there if Malcolm called - but there was only so much he could do. He knew that, and he’d accepted it. 

A part of that hurt, too, though. It hurt because Malcolm wasn’t an old army buddy or a cop friend or anyone else. Malcolm was his own entity unto himself. And JT wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with how much he wanted Malcolm to know he could rely on him for anything at all - whatever he needed. 


End file.
